


I Hate Everything About You

by ALCzysz17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angry sansa, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief mentions of Dubious Consent, Brief mentions of rape/non-con, Choking Kink, Cunnilingus, Damaged Sansa, Dark Jon, Dark Sansa, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Jon rescues Sansa in the Vale, Making Love, Mentions of Death, Robb Lives, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALCzysz17/pseuds/ALCzysz17
Summary: Sansa is emotionally damaged from her time between King's Landing and the Vale. She cannot stand Jon with his solemn attitude when he's prince while she's damaged goods with no future. On the way back from negotiations they get drunk and have angry, hate sex, but is that all there is to it? Is there more lying beneath the surface for both of them?





	1. I hate everything about you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chocolateghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolateghost/gifts).



> Damn, I am on a MF row!! So I decided to make this two chapters since it seemed like a good ending point and of course, there will be smut in the next chapter as well. That being said, this is a more darker content than I usually write. I've been feeling it lately and since I finished 'My Cousin Sansa' I figured I'd quickly write this two-shot down. I've never written a choking kink before so please let me know if I did justice here and I hope y'all enjoy this darker story! 
> 
> Title: I hate everything about you by Three Days Grace (my absolute favorite song from them)
> 
> Gifted to chocolateghost: I love your comments on my stories and I hope this isn't insulting but I thought you would like this story, it seems up your alley and I think we have similar smutty tastes, I do hope you like it! ^_~

 

 

His sword hand flexed rhythmically, the only show of nervousness and anxiety within his being. Sansa mused that if someone only looked at his imposing stature and stern face, they would never know, and that most certainly was the reasoning for it. Never show fear, whispered a phantom Petyr into her ear. Fake your strength until it’s true or seems as though. Never show your fear, not even towards allies.

Sansa knew Jon hated doing negotiations, hated dealing with Lords and Ladies for any length of time. Years of being in the shadows and avoiding the highborn around him had given Jon a distaste for these dealings, but it was because of that reason her brother, Robb thought Jon was best suited for these negotiations. Their cousin had a shrewdness that they lacked, and an ability to sniff out a lie. It was also why she was here.

Where Jon was shrewd and at times stilted and cold when it came to pleasantries, Sansa was almost the exact opposite. She was open and polite, engaging and kind. Robb had stated a time or two how well they balanced each other out. Though he was right, there was just one little thing.

Sansa and Jon could not stand one another.

In the beginning when they were children it had been careful distance between them. Sansa knew how her mother felt about Jon and being the little lady that she was, she kept her distance as well. There was nothing of interest that they both shared aside from stories and songs and even then, Jon preferred the ones of heroes while she preferred the ones of romance. Then the years of separation hadn’t helped them see eye-to-eye with each other. Sansa had thought maybe things would change when Jon came for her in the Vale, but then he became distant towards her and in retaliation she pulled away as well.

Sansa stood silently as her cousin negotiated with the Northern lords, they were from closer to the Wall, or where the Wall once stood and were having a hard time surviving the winter storms that came barreling down upon them from the Lands of Always Winter now that the Wall was gone. Robb sent them with food and other supplies, needing their support to keep the North independent while war started to slowly brew between the North and South once more. Cersei was relentless in her efforts to make the North kneel to the South, but it was fruitless as well.

Robb was tired of war, he was tired of fighting with the South to stay independent and he was tired because of his little daughter being mere moons old. Jeyne had died in childbirth and only produced a girl instead of a male heir. Robb was seemingly heartbroken from her death, but their daughter, Sarra helped to ease his pain. Many of the lords gave their condolences, saying hopefully another marriage would produce a male heir, but Robb wouldn’t have that. Sansa could still remember him standing up at the head table, drawing everyone’s eyes as he held his baby girl and declared that she was his heir and that she would be Queen in the North once she was of age.

There was many of argument, but Robb would not be swayed from his decision and in that Sansa felt proud to be his sister. She also envied him though, every time she looked at them together, her brother holding her niece she felt an ache inside her chest and her hand would drift down to brush her flat stomach.

Jon turned to Sansa, she blinked slowly then took in the smiles of the Northern lords and nodded her head to him. Before they departed, one of the lords gave them a parting gift, a cask of whiskey, “to help you stay warm,” he declared kindly.

Sansa smiled her thanks as Jon gave a curt nod before they all walked back to their horses, leaving the heavy carts for the Northern lords to take back to their homes. They met just past The Long River, so it would take them two days to get back to Winterfell. Sansa dreaded the wait, wishing there was a faster way to get home that very day, nay, that very minute.

They travelled in near silence between each other. Sansa glanced at Jon periodically as the men around them laughed and joked and talked. Jon’s grim expression, his solemn frown and darken eyes annoyed her. She wanted nothing more than to throw something at his head to see if he felt anything at all. She even contemplated removing her boot to find out but thought better of it. Bad enough that she could never make a marriage deal for Robb, best not to rock the boat further by looking like a petulant child as well in front of his men.

Jon glanced at her, arching a brow. “Do you wish to stop?” he asked gruffly, causing Sansa to roll her eyes and huff at him.

“I am perfectly well enough to make it further, thank you,” she said curtly, turning away from Jon and forcing her horse to trot a bit faster than his to leave him behind her. Looking at his face any longer would only grow to irritate her more.

She heard him sigh and bit the inside her cheek to keep from giving out another snarky comment. Truly, she wished she wasn’t always sent with Jon to do these envoys, but her brother felt she needed to get out of Winterfell more often, to breath and possibly to stop suffocating everyone around her, she supposed. Sansa forced her shoulders to relax, breathing in the ice-cold air through her lungs then releasing it through her mouth, creating heated puffs of air.

Sansa couldn’t help herself. There was just so much that had happened to her, so much that had damaged her beyond repair. It was hard to see others so happy and joyful while she suffered in pain inside. So hard to see Jon acting as though his life was full of misery when only a year earlier he found that he wasn’t a bastard at all, but a trueborn prince; her cousin and not her half-brother.

Jon had great things in his future to come, if only he bothered to try and while she…she had no value as a woman anymore, nor the capabilities to do anything more than be her King brother’s nan to her niece. Sansa could see herself now, years upon years in the future being called Old Nan herself with wrinkled skin, no hair and missing teeth while she told songs and stories to Robb and Jon’s children. She shuddered underneath her heavy cloak, that was a future she did not look forward to having; at all.

They travelled for several miles before the darkening of the sky forced them to make camp off the King’s road. Two guardsmen helped set her tent up, smiling at her though they did so in a rather pitying way. Sansa remained impassive, nodding her thanks before setting her furs up in the tent as the rest of the men went about the camp, building fires and starting to cook food for their supper. Sansa laid down on her furs, wishing for nothing but to sleep, to ignore the happy chatter outside.

The flap to her tent opened. She lifted her head, ready to shout angrily when it was only Ghost coming in. He licked her cheek softly then settled down by her furs, curling up into a ball and emitting immense body heat. Sansa sighed in relief, how was that she could only stand his presence while she hated to be around anyone else, especially Jon? It was the fact that Ghost couldn’t look at her with pity in his eyes, smile at her falsely, nor bring even more misery to her already miserable outlook on life. Ghost made her think of Lady, but in a comforting way rather than making her wish her direwolf was there instead.

“Sansa.” She groaned into Ghost’s fur as she heard his voice through her tent.

“What?” she barked, slightly muffled through the direwolf’s fur. There was nothing but silence for a moment then Jon said, “Do you want supper?”

Sansa was ready to say ‘no’, but her stomach grumbled a ‘yes’. Instead of replying, she forced herself to get up, pushing her flap open to step out into the blistering cold of nightfall with flickering, heated flames of the fire dancing in the middle of their camp. Ghost popped out with her. Jon glanced between the two then moved away to settle with their men by the fire. He passed Sansa a plate of roasted something, possibly hare while tossing Ghost the bones with fat, skin and leftover meat on it.

She picked at her food, eating some to quiet her annoying stomach, but overall, she wasn’t especially hungry. Her eyes drifted to the flickering flames, watching the fire dance before her, drawing her in. All the noises of the camp faded away as she gazed into the flames, she could see her past in the flames, reenacting the terrible crimes done against her. Watching as her father was beheaded before her, being stripped in front of court and beaten by knights, Littlefinger whisking her away to the Vale, her aunt almost pushing her out the moon door and Littlefinger visiting her at night…

Sansa pulled away from the flames as her chest ached painfully. Her eyes moving over to Jon watching her concernedly. “What?” she barked irritably, her eyes narrowing at him.

“Are you alright?” Jon asked, a frown curving his full lips downward. She noticed he had a mug in his hand.

“What do you have there?” Sansa asked instead of answering his question. He was quiet for a moment before pointing over to the cask of whiskey the Northern lords had gifted them. She hadn’t a taste for the dark liquid, but she needed something to drown out everything else.

Sansa stood and grabbed an unused mug, pulling on the tap to get herself a cup. The taste of liquor was strong, choking the air from her lungs as she swallowed then coughed into her hand. It left a burning sensation down her throat and chest before it turned warm in her belly. She came back before the fire, ignoring Jon while sipping at her whiskey rather than gulping it like the first time.

The more she drank, the better it tasted, washing away the slightly burnt hare of her supper and putting a relaxing spell over her where her shoulders were no longer tension and she felt mostly calm. She continued to sip her whiskey as slowly the men started to turn in except for the ones standing guard. Jon stayed out, sipping his own mug of whiskey while they seemed to avoid looking at each other. The tension in the air started to form as they sat there by the fire, the other men moving to the second fire further away.

Sansa eventually finished her mug and got up to get another fill, her legs wobbled when she stood, but otherwise she kept her balance. She stopped when Jon stood up as well.

“I think one is good enough, Sansa, you should head to bed,” Jon stated sternly. Sansa scoffed at him, ignoring his words to walk back over to the cask. “Sansa.”

“I am not a child, Jon, don’t order me around!” Sansa growled as she got herself another fill, glaring at him over the rim of her mug as she drained half the mug in one go. The burn felt nice, warming faster than her first one.

“When Robb is not here then I am the one of authority, so yes, I can and will order you about.” Sansa sent him a rude gesture that immediately gained a disgruntled expression from Jon that made her snort in a giggle. She managed to finish her whiskey before the mug was harshly yanked out of her hand by him. “Now, Sansa.”

“Don’t boss me around, you’re not my brother, nor my King or prince,” she answered angrily, shoving at him though he barely moved.

“Sansa, you are making a spectacle of yourself,” Jon muttered, annoyance in his features as he glanced between her and the men over at the second fire, watching them.

“I don’t care what they think, they only pity me because I’m useless as a woman anyway!” Sansa shouted obnoxiously as Jon grabbed a hold of her. Undeterred, she pulled her head over his shoulder, “Keep watching the barren princess, maybe she’ll fall in the fire too!”

“Sansa!” Jon yelled, physically picking her up as she struggled against him.

“Put me down!” she screamed angrily, bringing down her fists on his shoulders though it did nothing to stop him.

“Settle down!” he yelled back, forcing her tent flap open to put her down on her furs. Sansa kicked him in the stomach, relishing his huff at the loss of air and groan as he crouched over.

“Serves you right! Always acting like your life is so miserable! Poor little bastard Jon, oh but wait! Not a bastard at all! A trueborn prince of the Seven Kingdoms who isn’t man enough to take what is his! You’re pathetic!” Sansa bellowed loudly, sitting up to better direct her glare at him.

“Oh, I’m pathetic?! Poor little Sansa, always the damsel in distress who whines when life gets hard! Life is not easy for anyone, just because you can’t have something because of your body doesn’t mean you need to make everyone suffer in your misery! You say I need to man up, well you need to fucking grow up!” Jon all but shouted back, his face red and his breath coming out harshly between his words and the kick to his stomach.

“Shut your mouth, you bastard!” she yelled as anger boiled in her belly, what the hell did he know anyway?

“You need to go to fucking bed! Now!” Jon said between harsh breaths.

“I said shut up!” Sansa reiterated, pushing to stand over his crouched position.

Jon looked up at her, frowning as she grabbed a hold of his hair, curling her fingers tightly in the strands before pressing her lips roughly to his in order to shut him up. Jon went to move away but she kept a firm hold on his head, swallowing his angry words with her mouth. Sansa pulled away, stating, “I said to shut up.”

She let him go, but then Jon was forcing her back, catching her underneath her legs and back to lay her on her furs before his mouth collided with hers once more. The anger in her mellowed quickly as he devoured her lips, pushing his tongue into her mouth and dominating her tongue in a war that reflected their anger with each other. Sansa grasped at his shoulder and hair, tugging and pulling as Jon dug his fingers into her hips.

Sansa released his hair to work at his cloak, forcing the fur lined cloak off his body where she encountered his leather jerkin. Jon stroked her tongue with his, drawing it back into his mouth where their war continued with echoing moans swapped between their open mouths. She worked blindly at his buttons, going down the line as well as she could with her mouth preoccupied, but when she tugged his jerkin apart at least three buttons were ripped off the leather, flying in different directions.

Jon groaned in her mouth, helping to shrug off his jerkin before he stood up on his knees to pull the leather from his body then his tunic underneath until he was bare chested before her. Sansa whined at the sight of his sculpted physique and the darken scars that graced his skin, there was a brief pause between them as she took in the heavy scarring before she started to tug at the laces of her bodice. Jon helped her loosen the laces before he burrowed his face between her heaving breasts, pressing kisses between the rounded globes of flesh. His beard sending tingles of pleasure through the sensitive skin of her breasts offset the softness of his full lips as they descended towards a nipple revealed from the pulled away fabric.

Her moan filled the small tent, the air around them was heated with the cold barely standing a chance. She moaned his name when Jon enclosed his mouth around her nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth over the bud before giving a hard suck. Sansa dug her nails into his muscular shoulders, gasping when he closed his teeth around her nipple to pull from her breast then release, repeating it once then twice, each time sending electric jolts running through her nerves. Jon moved lower to seemingly suck a mark into the underside of her breast. Sansa struggled with her skirts, trying unsuccessfully to hitch them up but her weight and Jon’s weight made that impossible.

Sensing her struggle, Jon pulled back from her breasts, back to his knees where he pulled a sharp dagger from his breeches. Sansa felt no fear as he used the sharpen weapon to cut through her dress and shift until he could see her smallclothes underneath. She quickly removed her arms from the sleeves and pulled her legs from her skirts before Jon suddenly grabbed her calves, lifting them up over his shoulders then ceremoniously dropping his face between her thighs.

Sansa moaned in embarrassment though that didn’t stop her from rocking her hips up to his wet mouth as he mouthed her through her smallclothes. His name was like a breathy song from her lips, repeated in different pitches as he pulled aside the fabric to lick hotly between her slick folds. Jon pulled the fabric up her legs to her knees then placed his mouth back at the apex of her thighs to tongue the sensitive skin there. Sansa dropped her hands to his curly hair, clawing through his strands as he sucked on her folds and supped on her wetness.

This was all new to her, never had she had a man’s mouth on her cunny, eating her like she was a supper all her own. Jon seemed to enjoy his meal too, sucking and supping with gusto as he worked her. When his lips closed around her throbbing nub, Sansa practically screamed her pleasure, tossing her head back and forth as Jon lovingly tortured her nub. Her chest heaved up and down, but when she looked down between her breasts she could make out his darken gaze upon her, watching her. It brought another ripple of pleasure through her.

The harder he sucked, the more pleasurable it became and the harder it was for her to control herself. Her hips rocked into his mouth, hoping she wasn’t cuffing him harshly in the chin as she rutted. Her lower back arched upwards as she could get no purchase with her feet since they were currently locked over Jon’s shoulders and around his head by her smallclothes. Sansa pulled her hands from his hair to clutch at her breasts, squeezing her nipples between her fingers as she worked her way closer and closer to her peak.

Jon appeared determined to get her there as he pushed two fingers into her entrance, stretching her out with his thick fingers. She felt like the only word she knew was his name as his fingers worked her fluttering walls, curling and stroking and pumping. Sansa choked on air as she withered in her furs, begging him to bring her to peak, to bring her to her end.

Then abruptly she seized, her knees colliding harshly together, her hands shooting out to clutch at her furs as her back arched higher and higher while the breath was slowly seeped from her lungs. Stars glowed behind her lids, twinkling at her as her body rippled in immense pleasure. Jon continued to suck at her wet flesh, prolonging her pleasure while she seemingly squashed his head between her thighs.

“Jon,” Sansa moaned, rutting into his mouth still as he closed his teeth around her nub, sending a jolting signal of pain and pleasure through her body before he finally surfaced with swollen lips and drenched beard.

He stared at her for a long moment then he leaned back to his knees, keeping her legs locked around him by her smallclothes over his shoulders as he untied his breeches, pushing them down his butt with his smallclothes to reveal his harden cock. Sansa hated how she whined at the sight of him, hated how much she wanted his once bastard cock inside her, hated wanting him at all. Jon smirked at her whine, stroking his length thoughtfully.

“Do you want it?” he asked quietly, so leisurely that it irked her even more.

“Go to hell,” she answered roughly. Jon only shook his head, directing his dark eyes into her gaze.

“Already did, sweetheart,” he commented though his face become solemn at the end. Sansa locked her ankles behind his head, forcing him to bend over and closer to her.

“Fuck me or get out.” Jon dropped to his elbows so abruptly it startled her, his nose merely an inch from hers though his gaze never faultier.

“Is this how he fucked you?” he inquired almost curiously though there was a darkness in his eyes and words, an anger that was just on the surface. Sansa could feel his cock touching her wet folds, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Which one?” she asked instead, enjoying the way his brow furrowed towards his eyes then seeing the anger coming closer to the surface than before.

Before she could say more, Jon pushed into her body. Her folds spread apart to allow his cock to sink in, caressing her inner muscles as he bottomed out inside her. He was thicker than she was use to causing pinches in her muscles from stretching to accommodate his girth. Jon said nothing as he settled within the cradle of her thighs, his nose nuzzled hers softly, making her realize she had shut her eyes tightly.

When she opened them he was watching her, the darkness still there, it never really went away even when his grey eyes were visible, but there was the edge of concern that made her close her eyes again though not as tight. She didn’t want his concern, his pity nor his sympathy, she wanted nothing from him but his cock to fuck her and so Sansa dug her elbows into her furs, using them to shift her weight to thrust against his pelvis. Jon hummed at the movement then he was pulling back his hips and thrusting forward into hers, bringing forth a friction of pleasure between them.

Sansa gasped and huffed as he started a slowly building rhythm, but she didn’t want that, she wanted him to fuck her, just like everyone else. She reached up to grasp the small hairs at the back of his neck and head, hoping it hurt half as much as she did when he grunted at her touch. “Fuck me or get out,” she repeated heatedly, opening her eyes to glare at Jon. His jaw was clenched as he returned her glare with one of his own then he reared back before snapping his hips forward into hers harshly.

He held her eyes, locking them to his as he started a rougher tempo, pounding into her hips harder and harder. Sansa bit out a moan when one thrust caused his pelvic bone to brush her nub. Jon repeated the motion, snapping his hips as fast as he could while maintaining eye contact with her. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to peaking again, she needed more though, he needed to be rougher.

Sansa reached up to grab one of his hands, lifting it to touch her throat before enclosing his fingers around. “Press,” she muttered breathlessly, moaning brokenly when he asserted pressure on her throat. She used her hand to force him to press harder and harder as he fucked her into her furs. The slap of his hips and balls into her thighs and butt loudly echoed around them, accented by Sansa’s breathlessness and moans as Jon remained ever silent, just watching her as he pounded into her cunt and choked the air from her lungs.

Her eyes were half-lidded, but they stayed focused on his, there was something heady about the way he took control and punished her body. It was more than what Harry had done to her and so much more than what Petyr had done to her. Sansa hated to find that she loved it, loved her lack of control with him because she was in control the whole time. Jon grunted and huffed, his peaking coming on fast. Sansa made him squeeze her throat harder, forcing her to hold her breath as she took each pounding thrust, branding her insides with his thick cock.

She kept mumbling ‘please’ silently then her body seized again, harder and stronger than the last. Sansa couldn’t breath and tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, but it was exhilarating all the same. Jon groaned her name loudly, giving hard ruts of his hips as he filled her broken womb with his lifeless seed. Her legs protested the weight as he came down further on her, pressing her knees to her breasts as they both caught their breathes.

Sansa opened her eyes slowly, nuzzling her head into the side of Jon’s neck as he tried controlling his breath into her shoulder. She then brought her arms up around his shoulders, embracing his hot and sweaty body to her being. He brought out so many more emotions than she had felt in so long and she both loved and hated him for it.

She loved and hated him for it…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...that was quite the smut, wasn't it? Darker than I have written, I decided to go with a Sansa who cannot have children, something I've never read before when concerning her. I'm also going with the fact that Jon cannot have children either because of him being brought back to life, something that could be a possibility that I read in a meta on tumblr. There will be more context in the second chapter of the story, detailing about what happened to Sansa and the distance between her and Jon.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed it and let me know whatcha think?! ^_~


	2. Why do I love you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of context then some smut! ^_~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the awaited second chapter! 
> 
> *Warning: this is pretty angsty and some subject matter is hard to read, there is also tons of context for the story as a whole, but it helps to explain everything in the first chapter. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy! ^_~

 

 

Her head throbbed terribly, mixing in with the continuous trotting of her horse only gave Sansa an even fouler mood than before. Aside from the pounding in her head, she did feel better overall. Her muscles were no long tense, and she felt lighter, something she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. Jon had removed himself from their embrace that night, leaving for a few minutes as she dozed in and out before reappearing with a wet clothe. She was so out of it that he had to clean the evidence of their coupling for her before she passed out again.

There was a brief memory of lips on her forehead, but otherwise she woke up to the men packing their tents in the early morning sun rise. Ghost had replaced his master, cuddling up against her to keep Sansa warm. She mourned the dress that was ruined by Jon, it had been a pretty woolen one that kept her plenty warm. She tossed it into the simmering remains of one of the fires from last night. From there she ate some bread and cheese before they set off for Winterfell.

Jon hadn’t said a word to her aside from a nod of greeting when she came out of her tent. Sansa felt too relaxed physically to be bothered by his lack of vocalization towards her, her throbbing head kept her from interacting with anyone regardless.

Sansa glanced at him as their horses trotted along, flashes of last night ran through her mind every time she looked at him. She turned her eyes back to the road ahead, trees thickly lining along the dirt path. Though it was quiet between them there was not any awkwardness that accompanied the silence. Sansa drew her gaze down her to her gloved hands, gripping the reins to her horse as they moved. The men that surrounded them talked amongst themselves though keeping a wide berth around her and Jon, especially her.

She didn’t regret what she said last night to the few that witnessed her outburst. She was tired of being looked at with pity and sympathy, tired of the whispers about her and speculations of her time away from Winterfell in King’s Landing and the Vale. So tired of feeling like she was putting on a mummer’s show rather than trying to live her own life in their eyes. Sansa glanced back at Jon, his eyes severely focused on the road ahead. She knew he could feel her eyes upon him and yet he didn’t glance at her, resolutely keeping his eyes on the road instead.

There were so many words left unspoken between them, so many things that need to be hashed out and last night seemed to be the tipping point in her eyes, yet Jon seemed to not acknowledge it during the light of day. Sansa tighten her grip on the reins until her fingers protested the pain of the leather digging into her flesh.

So many things…

_Sansa rushed through the heated corridors of Winterfell, anger burned through her veins as she moved quickly, almost pushing past bystanders as she made her way to Sarra’s chambers. She opened the door swiftly, enjoying the sound of the crack of the wooden frame slamming into the stone wall behind it before catching the door and slamming it equally as loudly shut behind her. Robb glared at her obviously childish display as he held his daughter within his arms._

_Sarra did react to the loud noises, only peered over to Sansa with her dark blue eyes curiously for a babe of only a few weeks old._

_“Are you quite done?” Robb asked irritably, shifting his daughter in his arms as he regarded her with angry eyes._

_“Oh, I am not, I have only gotten started!” Sansa yelled in her anger, crossing her arms over her chest as she directed her own glare back at him. “I do not wish to be wedded off yet again! Especially not to him!”_

_“Sansa, please calm down! Can we not discuss this in my solar later?” Sansa dug her nails into the sleeves of her gown, the jutting of her chin told him ‘no’. Robb sighed, turning his daughter around in his arms to press a kiss to her forehead then her cheek before setting her down into her cradle. “I am only looking out for you,” he started before she exploded back, “I cannot have children, Robb! Marriage with me would result in no heirs, nor do I wish to wed ever again!”_

_“I know! You don’t think I don’t know this!” Robb shouted back, flinching when Sarra started to cry at his loud voice. He reached back over to pick her up again, cuddling her to his chest while she wailed in his arms. Sansa pursed her lips, she shouldn’t have rushed in here in her anger, not when his only solace was in his daughter’s company._

_There was silence between them as he comforted Sarra until she quieted down once more, sucking on her little fist. Robb glanced between her and Sansa. “I know how hurt you are because of your predicament, I know the pain you suffered in King’s Landing by the Lannisters and by Petyr Baelish in the Vale.” He spat the names out like he wished to stomp upon his words into the dirt. “I have failed you as not only a brother, but as a King and that pains me to know you suffered because I couldn’t save you, I am trying to fix that.” Robb’s words alluded to his guilt as he gazed tired, watery eyes at her before once more placing Sarra in her crib._

_“Regardless that you cannot have children, I am still receiving letters asking for your hand.” Sansa frowned with widen eyes, she had not known that. She thought that her barren status would keep any prospects from wanting her hand since she cannot produce heirs for them. “I’ve declined everyone.”_

_“Everyone but him.”_

_“Aye. I only want what is best for you, Sansa, and I want you safe and I want you here, in Winterfell with me. You wed any other lord and you are gone to their holdfasts, away from my safety. I was the one who came up with the idea, not him. It was the only way I could keep you protected here in Winterfell.”_

_Sansa walked past Robb, moving to stand in front of the window that peered down into Winterfell’s courtyard. There were many men training as a light drizzle of rain and snow came down upon them. It was down there she could make him out, training among the rest though harsher with his strong movements and quick footwork._

_“Don’t think of it as being wed, but a betrothal. You won’t have to marry him until after the war with the South is over and even then, you might not have too after…” Robb stated as he moved to stand beside her and look down into the courtyard._

_“Does he know your decision?” she asked softly, flinching when his arm came around her shoulders before she forced her muscles to ease and relax._

_“No, but he will when I announce it tonight…”_

Sansa drew her hood over her head as snow started to fall upon them. Jon had not been happy when he learned of his betrothal to Sansa, he had taken it gracefully as he were in the public eye, but after he stormed out of the Hall without a backwards glance. They both had similar feelings towards the betrothal just like they had similar situations with their bodies.

Jon had died in a mutiny as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. The red woman, Melisandre had brought him back to life from the insistence of Stannis Baratheon in hopes that Robb would see reason and join their armies if he brought back his half-brother. Though Robb was thankful, he would not allow the North’s independence to be deterred. Jon came home but learned in the process that he could not have children of his own, that his body still worked much the same, but his seed was useless. Sansa hadn’t known if it bothered him or not, he never seemed to care either way from what she saw, but Jon was notorious for keeping his thoughts to himself.

Sansa had thought it so morbidly amusing how her brother fitted both her barren sister and cousin together, neither could have children and it kept her home with her family as per her and Robb’s wish while keeping his political strength with all of them united. Their united front gave them more loyalty from the Riverlands through their uncles and the Vale through their cousin, Robert Arryn. Stannis had ended up negotiating with Robb later, stating that he’d allow Northern independence if he helped him gain the South and King’s Landing.

There had been some tension between the two Kings though, one she learned later was because Stannis whom lost his wife to sickness had also asked for Sansa’s hand in the bargaining. Robb had half-heartedly thrown out the betrothal of Sansa and Jon to keep her safe before he decided the half-formed idea was a rather good one. They had only found out a week after Sansa had come home that Jon wasn’t their half-brother. Stannis was furious, almost pulling out of the agreements until it was brought up what had happened to his daughter, Shireen.

Burned alive at the stake.

Sansa felt so sorry for the poor girl, could only imagine the pain she had gone through before The Stranger took her from this world. From what she was told by Robb, Jon only had vague memories of his time in the Watch, that his death and resurrection torn apart his memories. It caused him some hardships when he couldn’t name people he knew dearly. He had called her ‘Ygritte’ once, so long ago when he came to the Vale for her…

Seeing Winterfell brought a sense of relief to her that she hadn’t known she needed. They had stopped briefly for some food and break before setting off again through the blistering winds and cold. Sansa wished for nothing more than a scalding hot bath to clear the ice in her veins and bones. Her dress slightly soaked from the melting snow through her cloak, she was stiff upon getting down from her horse. Jon was there though, hands grasping tightly at her hips to help her drop to her feet where they lingered as she found her footing.

Sansa dropped her hands to his, giving them a squeeze as she gazed into his eyes. She swallowed hard when she noticed the heat in them again though it became dimmer the longer they held their gaze before he was pulling back from her. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ then she was off again, rushing into the keep to her awaited bath.

Her head felt strangely numb as she laid in the hot water. Half of her wanted to scream angrily while the other half wanted to sob. Things had been quiet and still between her and Jon during the journey home, but now that they were home Sansa realized how different things were going to be again. They had been betrothed for many moons now, but they had never touched each other, nor done anything of the sort that occurred last night. The alcohol had loosened their inhibitions with each other, that she knew, but that only meant that there had been something there between them.

Something there that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Sansa slipped lower into her bath until the water came up to her chin. She should have went to bed like he said, she shouldn’t have indulged in two drinks of whiskey. Things had been simpler and easier before last night, so much easier to slip into her anger and misery. Sansa sighed, brushing her hands down her body where she bared his finger prints on her hips. There was a darken mark on the underside of her breast where he had sucked harshly, intending to leave his mark behind it seemed.

Her mind lingered upon her body before moving along towards memories she wished she could leave behind. Memories she wished she never had.

Petyr had her marry Harry Hardyng once her marriage was annulled with Tyrion Lannister through the unconsummation of said marriage. Unfortunately, her second marriage to Harrold Hardyng didn’t go without a consummation. He had been too drunk to know she hadn’t been a maiden that night, Petyr had already taken that from her too. Petyr had thought he was so smart, thought his letter of approval for her marriage to Harry would go without question when she came out as Sansa Stark and not Alayne Stone on their wedding day.

Robb was still alive and well though their mother had lost her life during the Red Wedding. Her brother had laid low for awhile before resurfacing after taking Winterfell back from the Boltons though it was too late for her younger brothers. Upon learning of her survival of King’s Landing and marriage to yet another man without his Kingly approval infuriated Robb. Jon was sent with a few men to retrieve her back to her home.

Sansa had spent so many sleepless nights wishing to go home, so many nights underneath either Harry or Petyr wishing to just be home again. She became pregnant within three moons of her marriage though she couldn’t tell who the father was. She used Maester Colemon as a reason to keep both men away from her bed once she realized she was with child. Sansa had gone back and forth on her feelings for the child, both loving and hating the thing that slowly changed her body. Harry died not too long after from mysterious sickness that almost took Sweetrobin’s life as well. She didn’t mourn too much over her husband’s death, more so she mourn over the fact that she was trapped with Petyr and an unwanted unborn child inside her.

There were some nights she contemplated death, for that had to be easier than staying in Petyr’s cage and boring a baby she did not want. It was then that Jon came to the Eyrie to save her. Sansa was six moons along in her pregnancy as she waddled quickly into his waiting arms. She had never been happier to see her half-brother than she had at that moment. Burying her face into his neck as he held her securely to his chest.

The only thing that made her happier was the execution of Petyr Baelish by hanging. She stood proudly beside Jon, clutching his arm as Petyr was hung before them. The lords of the Vale almost didn’t let her go, shouting about Hardyng’s heir and such. The only way she could go home was if Sansa aired out her dirty laundry to them, calling Petyr a rapist (as he was) and telling them she had no idea if Harry or Petyr was the father of her child. There were still naysayers though, it got close to being a bloody battle on top of the mountain before Jon put his foot down and told them she was coming home regardless.

The climb down was hard on her body, hard on the baby too. Sansa felt tears well up in her eyes…

_Sansa was shaking violently, the icy cold winds battering the tent she was in with many upon many furs wrapped tightly around her, but she still couldn’t get warm. She was sweating profusely and the last time she ate she had gotten sick right after. An apprentice maester underneath Colemon had accompanied them down the mountain. He told Jon in hushed tons that she had the same sickness that took Lord Harrold Hardyng’s life and that her weaken state as a pregnant woman made her more susceptible to death._

_She found that she didn’t fear her death so much, she just wanted to be warm._

_“Jon,” Sansa croaked quietly, gaining his attention after a few more calls to enter her tent. “Please lay with me, I’m so cold.”_

_“Aye, I’ve got you sweet girl,” Jon said softly, unraveling her furs until he could embrace her to him and rewrap them up. She leeched off his body as much as she could, intertwining their legs and burrowing her face into his neck and shoulder. Jon rubbed her back and held her tightly in his arms._

_She was drowse with sleep but fought against it for fear she would never wake up like Harry._

_“I’m sorry for how I treated you when we were children,” Sansa muttered into his skin._

_“We were children, all is forgiven. Don’t worry about that right now.” Jon pressed a kiss on her head._

_“But I need you to know in case I don’t make it-Hush! You will be just fine, you and the baby,” Jon stated sternly, cutting her off before she could continue her sadden, morbid words. His hand moved from her back to rub her round belly._

_“I’m a terrible person,” Sansa said after a moment of silence._

_“Why do you think that?” Jon asked as he shifted to look down at her. She pulled away from his neck to connect their gazes._

_“Because I don’t care if the baby lives or not, I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any of this, I just wanted to go home.” Tears gathered and fell down her cheeks as she blinked at his surprised expression. “That makes me terrible.”_

_“That doesn’t make you terrible, Sansa.” Jon leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a few seconds. It felt like his warmth seeped in through the press of his lips, drawing through her skin and warming her whole being. This was not the first time they talked so closely together, Sansa had not spent one night since Jon had come for her without his company. It was like meeting him for the first time, he was more solemn and quiet than he once had been, but still familiar and comforting all the same._

_“What does that make me then?” she asked desperately. Jon smiled down at her, removing his hand from her belly to wipe away her hot tears._

_“That makes you human, vulnerable and scared, but that also makes you a survivor. You have to be one of the strongest women I know and though you don’t want the baby, I know you will come to love him or her because you are strong.” Jon words lifted her heart as her shivering stopped altogether from his heated body._

_“Why do you think so well of me?”_

_“Because you are a good person, Sansa,” Jon stated confidently though she noticed his eyes drifting further down from hers, down towards her nose, towards her lips. “Because I love you.”_

_Sansa swallowed thickly, reaching up a hand to touch his cheek and relish the harsh brush of her beard on her skin. She watched as he swallowed too, his eyes flickering between hers and her lips. With a tiny nod, he moved towards her then he was kissing her softly. Pressing tender lips to hers, seeping more heat into her being as well as his love. Sansa had never felt so loved before, from anyone until now…_

Sansa had fallen asleep that night cradled in Jon’s arms and when she woke up the next day it was to immense pain in her abdomen. She suffered for hours before prematurely giving birth to her son and becoming unconscious once more. By the time she woke again it was days later, she was weakened, cold and thin. Jon looked haunted as he told her about her son, how he hadn’t even drawn a breath before dying in his arms. Sansa was a mixture of emotions, crying in his arms for both his pain and hers, for the loss of her son that she didn’t love nor wanted, but still hurt over.

The journey to Winterfell was mostly quiet between them. A drifting of distance that grew larger and larger the further along they got to home. They never spoke of the kiss they shared that night, the shame of sharing something so intimate with a sibling. Sansa felt better once she found out he was her cousin rather than half-brother, but it was miniscule in the end. She survived her illness though her baby had not and once she was further examined by an instated maester she found that the sickness caused her to become sterile.

It was a cruel irony from the gods, she was sure. That she would wish for home and not to have a child at all only to get home and never be able to have a child ever again. Jon had also grown more distant towards her while Robb was much too busy with running the North and trying to spend as much time with his daughter as possible. Sansa felt like her world was coming apart by the seams and she had no way of fixing it back together again.

So, she drew into herself, only speaking when she had too and growing more angered as the days went by. She took most of it out on Robb and her handmaidens, but a good portion went to Jon as well. When she needed him most he was gone, disappeared while she suffered her terrible news. He told her he loved her and yet pulled away, so she did the same. It was made even worse by the betrothal Robb set up for them.

Sansa missed him though, missed the way Jon had looked at her when they had reunited, the way he spoke to her and the way he told her he loved her. She missed that Jon, the one she got to know and who took care of the man who most abused her, who held her tightly as she spoke of the things she went through and the suffering she had survived. She missed him so dearly.

“Sansa.” Like a strange summoning from her thoughts alone, there stood Jon near the tub, staring down at her. Sansa sat up abruptly, only realizing how low she had sunk into her bath until her nose was almost submerged. She coughed harshly, closing one hand around her mouth and the other around the edge of the tub. “Are you okay?” Jon asked, kneeling beside the tub as his hand hovered over her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Sansa coughed out, trying to wave him off but he captured her hand in his. She turned to look at him and noticed he had changed his clothes as well, his hair was loose from its usually pulled back look, slowly curling as it dried. Half of her wanted to snap at him, asking-no demanding to know why he was in her chambers unannounced, but the other half was relieved to see him so soon after arriving home, to see that he wasn’t going to ignore her like before. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize for my actions last night,” Jon started, keeping her hand locked in his. Sansa froze at his words, immediately anger licked at her insides. He came to apologize, so he regretted what they did. Her jaw set with her teeth clenched tightly closed as her eyes harden into his stare. “I shouldn’t have taken such liberties with you whilst we drank, you weren’t of sound mind.”

“So, you regret it then,” she accused darkly, trying to twist her hand out of his. He needn’t touch her if he regretted bedding her in the first place. She directed her glare onto his face, ready to demand he let her go when she saw the perplexed and confused expression on his face that twisted his brows to crinkle.

“I don’t regret it, Sansa. I’d never regret you letting me touch you, but I shouldn’t have.” Sansa shook her head at him, stilling her tugging.

“I wanted you to though.”

“Sansa-No man has ever touched me like I was worth anything but for their pleasure,” Sansa said softly, her sorrow drifting into her words as she continued, “Petyr Baelish took from me because he thought he owned me and Harry only sought for his own pleasure and for an heir, but you, you touched me like I was a gift that deserved to be revered and valued. You sought out for my pleasure before yours and I have never felt that before.” Jon reached over with his free hand to cup her wet cheek, caressing the high bone of her cheek with his rough thumb.

“I’m sorry,” Jon apologized, swallowing hard as he gathered his thoughts. “I am so sorry for pulling away from you, I…” Jon drew back his hand, brushing his beard over his mouth as he looked away though Sansa didn’t miss the way his eyes watered. When he looked back at her though he looked even less composed. “I lost a woman I loved back at the wall, Ygritte was her name.”

“You called me that when you hugged me,” Sansa mentioned as she remembered the name being breathed into her hair.

“Aye…she had red hair like you and my memory, I had nearly forgotten about her until I saw you and I knew who you were, Sansa, don’t think I didn’t…but seeing you brought her back to me.” Jon leaned heavily against the side of the tub, swirling the tips of his fingers through the lavender scented water, his fingers traced the droplets of water on her knee when she drew it up above the surface. “She died in my arms. That night you gave birth…you nearly died in my arms too,” Jon choked out, a tear escaping his eye as he glanced at her then back to the water.

“But I didn’t die…” Sansa mumbled, reaching over to wipe the lone tear before it disappeared into his beard.

“Aye, you didn’t, but it tore at me. Holding your dead son…holding an almost dead you…I couldn’t handle losing another woman I loved, I’m not strong enough, so I pulled away to selfishly spare myself the suffering and instead I caused you even more pain in doing so.” Hearing him say the words touched her, but also made her want to cry.

“You hurt me, Jon. When I needed you must, you were gone. I thought I could depend on you and then you were gone, and I was alone, again.” Jon clenched his eyes shut, his hand tightening around hers in his grip as his other grasped her knee.

“I regret doing that and I will always regret not being there for you, it will haunt me for the rest of my existence,” he uttered so brokenly, it tore at her heart. “I don’t expect forgiveness, but I wish to make up for my distance from you. I thought it would protect you more with me not around when I did the opposite and I wish to make things right. You more than deserve better than me, so once this war is over…if I don’t die to free you of our betrothal then you can seek out one of your own choosing.”

Sansa started to shake her head, scratching her nails through his rough beard. “It will take a while before I can truly forgive you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you, nor do I…nor do I not love you, Jon, I do. Gods, I tried not too and that only made me angrier because I do, I love you and I wish not for another betrothal but yours if you still want me.” She couldn’t forgive him so easily for not being there for her, but she couldn’t say she didn’t understand his feelings. His haunted eyes were still so very vivid in her mind, it was from more than holding her dead son, it was also from almost losing her like his first love and she couldn’t fault him for being scared.

It would be easier to stay angry with him, to let her suffering at the hands of so many men bring her to be a bitter, angry woman, but if she allowed that then they all won even in death. She did not want to be a result of her environment and suffering. Sansa wished to be better than that, she deserved better than that and so did Jon, even if he didn’t believe so himself.

“Of course, I still want you, I will always want you even when I shouldn’t have,” Jon stated with a soft smile. He leaned over to press a tender kiss to her forehead, reminding her of him doing so last night before he lowered himself to kiss her lips. “I love you,” he mumbled into her lips, pressing another kiss and then another.

Sansa wrapped her arm around his neck to force him to deepen the kiss, swallowing his moan down her throat as their mouths opened to each other. He awoke such immense feeling inside her, last night she fought against them only barely succeeding, but today she would do no such thing. Today she would embrace what she wasn’t willing too last night. Today she would force her anger and suffering aside and embrace the opportunity to get some semblance of happiness for herself.

Jon dipped his hand beneath the water, trailing down her thigh towards the apex of her legs, combing through the curl red hair to trace the lips of her sex. Sansa moaned, brushing her tongue against his as he rubbed two fingers against her throbbing nub. She clawed her fingers through his hair much more gently than she had the other night, this time driven through passion and love rather than anger and lust. Jon pulled back from her lips, nuzzling his nose against hers as they connected eyes.

He stared deeply into her eyes while rubbing insistent circles on her nub, drawing her closer and closer to peaking. “Come on, sweet girl, show me your pleasure,” Jon said deeply, rubbing harder and harder as she started to rut her hips upwards against his fingers. Sansa gripped his hair, drawing him down from her gaze until he closed his lips around a protruding nipple, scraping the surface of the water.

The flick of his tongue and pressure of his teeth around her nipple joined with the aching pleasure of his touch between her legs. Jon leaned further, sucking more and more of her breast into his mouth then pinched her nub between two fingers sending her over the edge with a loud moan of his name that echoed the around the high ceiling of her chamber. Sansa held him to her breast as she worked through her climax, slumping in the tub as he released her breast from his mouth. She smiled pleasantly at him, gasping in shock when Jon let go of her hand that had still been tightly clutched in his to quickly scoop her up from her tub.

He disregarded her wetness as he carried her towards her large bed, only kissing her soundly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sansa moved to undue his doublet once he set her down on the bed while he worked at his breeches. Once his scarred chest was revealed to her again, she took her time tracing the lines with her fingers then following with her lips. She lingered on the largest one over his heart, kissing the harden skin there before closing her lips and teeth around the nipple close by. Jon hissed his pleasure, combing his fingers through her wet hair.

Sansa drew up the bed, grabbing his hand to drag him up with her until Jon was settled between her thighs like last night, only this time her smallclothes didn’t keep her legs locked around his head. Jon took his time gazing at her, taking her body in with the scars on her skin and the stretch marks on her belly that she tired not to think about often.

“Last night,” Jon started, probing her folds with the head of his cock. “You asked me to fuck you and I did, today…I ask you to allow me to make love to you.”

“Yes,” she answered, pressing against his cock with a smile as Jon leaned down over her. She beat him to placing his cock at her entrance, biting her lip as he pushed slowly inside of her. Already she could remember how it felt to have him inside her from last night. He rivaled Harry in length and shamed Petyr in girth, he fit perfectly for her though.

So perfectly.

Jon gave a small thrust to deeply set himself inside her then once more he locked his eyes with her and started a soft, slow tempo. Sansa locked her ankles behind his lower back while intertwining her hand with his once more as she rocked with his thrusting. It was sweeter than the way he fucked her last night, gentler and so much more intimate too. She had just wanted a release from her pent-up anger at him and the world, even at herself. She needed a sense of control. Now though she needed him to show her she was valued and loved, show her that her body isn’t just for him to enjoy but for herself.

He kept up his slow thrusts, smiling as she arched to brush her breasts against his chest. She enjoyed the intimate coupling, but she craved for that control again. It seemed off to ask him to choke her like before, not to mention it wouldn’t get her off without him pounding into her. Sansa gave out a frustrated moan, brushing her nipples against his chest again.

It was like he understood her so much more than she realized because in one fluid motion, Jon rolled onto his back, forcing her to uncross her ankles and slip him from her cunt. He helped maneuver her until she was straddling his thighs then he leaned back against her wet pillow with an encouraging smile as though to silently say, “here you go, sweet girl, take your control.”

Sansa gave out a shuddering breath then gave his cock a few pumps that made her smile when he followed with a few thrusts. She situated herself over his cock, sitting down swiftly and impaling himself snuggly inside her. It was not a position she had ever done before. Both Petyr and Harry liked to be on top, showing their dominance of the situation. She felt more than a little out of her depth, but Jon was patient, allowing her to move how she wanted as she figured out what to do.

It didn’t take her long before she was bouncing in his lap, intertwining both of their hands together to help use as leverage as she moved up and down his shaft. Sansa found she enjoyed this position a lot, staring down at Jon gave her a sense of dominance she never got and aside from him meeting her downward thrusts with his upwards, she had all the control between them and that was something only he had given her. Harry only wanted her body, but Petyr wanted more, he had wanted her love, but he would never get that from her. Jon would though, he could have her body, she thought, and he could have her love too.

“I love you, Jon,” Sansa called out, moving faster and faster as they both edged closer to their peaks. Jon wrestled with her left hand until she released it then he was thumbing her nub, pressing tight circles upon the fleshy button to bring her off.

Sansa quickly untangled his right hand, bringing it up and closing it around her throat once more. He needed no instruction to press down on her throat, halting the air flow as she bounced on his cock. It all came to a head quickly, Jon pinched her nub, giving it a had tug that sent her over the edge while she grasped his wrist and squeezed his cock inside her until he found his peak soon after. Sansa continued to rut in his lap after, forcing their peaks to linger and extend before she collapsed to his chest, breathing harshly.

His softening length was still buried in her cunt, and she loved it. Never had she liked sex, but with Jon she was slowly growing to love it. She knew it wasn’t so much the act itself, but the man she was doing it with. Jon trailed his fingers up and down her back as they laid there, soaking up the warmth between each other.

Sansa cleared her throat after a moment. “I think you should move into my chambers.”

“Really?” Jon asked as his fingers halted in their movements. She lifted her head to capture his gaze, nodding with a smile.

“I…I also think we should think about a wedding soon…before you leave…” Jon’s arms closed around her, keeping her locked against him as he smiled broadly.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her lips as though to seal the deal.

Sansa pulled back to cuddle into his chest, smiling into his skin. She knew there would be hard times between them as they moved forward. She still hurt from both him and her body, and the memories of her past. She knew he still hurt from his broken memories and his self-value. Yet she also knew that they could get through this together if they continued to try. It will be a long while before she can truly forgive Jon, but Sansa knew they were already on a good start and all it took was some anger, hate and lust (with a pinch of whiskey) to get them there.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the original outline I wrote, Sansa was going to go find Jon, but I felt with how deep the feelings are I decided it made more sense for Jon to go to her. Sansa is sterile, she cannot have children and I hope I handled the content of this issue well in the story. I thought it would be a cruel irony that she had an unwanted child in her and loses it, only to find she'll never have another again. It's sad and dark, but that had always been my intent when I decided to write this short story. I hope Jon's reason for distancing himself is understandable. I wanted to make sure everyone understood his reasons, but that he regrets them and that Sansa may not forgive him now, but she will because she loves him and understands. I didn't want the story to end with Sansa still jaded and angry, I wanted her to start to move on and get better like she was with Jon before losing the baby and sickness. 
> 
> There was a lot of angst and context and I hope I did well in explaining and that I didn't drag the story down with it. I really enjoyed writing this, something different from my usual works. I also hope everyone liked the smut in the end! I wanted Sansa to have loving sex, but of course, damn woman has to be in control and rough it up some. She deserves it though with how I put her through hell in this story. Thanks for reading and let me know whatcha think!!? ^_~


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